


Wedding Night

by gfaerie



Category: Clannad
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gfaerie/pseuds/gfaerie
Summary: A small story about two young people in love and the thoughts that arise when the lights go out on their first night together.





	Wedding Night

The key turns in the lock with a click and the door swings open. I can hardly contain the joy bubbling inside me. It is done. We're married. He takes me by the hand and leads me into my new home. Our home.

I love this apartment. This tiny shabby apartment. Since I first set eyes on it I've loved it. Looking at it, it's not even an apartment really, just a single room with an itsy bitsy kitchen and an itsy bitsy bathroom. It's more than a little worn down, the neighbourhood is certainly not the finest and sometimes I swear I have heard rats running in the walls. Still, since I first stepped over the threshold I have had nothing but good memories of this place. While today marks the first day this place is official my home my heart moved here a long time ago.

I couldn't even be sad when my then boyfriend moved out of my parent's house to find his own place. I knew how badly he needed to stand on his own legs and my heart burst with pride when I saw him struggle and succeed on his own. The troublemaker, my troublemaker, standing victorious in the face of adversity. If anyone would have asked me when we first got together if I thought my feelings could grow any stronger I would have so no, not possible. And I would have said so with a fiery passion. But I would have been wrong.

Still, it was hard to be away from him. Every morning I came over and we ate breakfast together. Every night when he came home from work, I was there waiting for him with dinner ready. These last months those were the only times we had together and it killed me to see him exhausted to the point that he could almost not hold a conversation. And yet, he still found the energy to walk me back to my parents’ house every night. I knew why we had to do it, to go through the motions. Yet I so yearned to stay. I love mom and dad, and I love their house. But even though I was going back to the residence I had lived almost my entire life, it was no longer home. Every night I felt I had to leave my home to go somewhere else. Every morning, I got up and dressed and it was like I was going home again. This apartment, from the day he moved here, was my home. Tonight I will spend my first night here. With him.

There are moments in your life when things just click into place, where a missing piece of the puzzle finds its place and everything becomes just a shade brighter. I look up at my husband, remembering the first time I met him. I think about the first time we held hands. When we fell asleep on each other's shoulders in the club room. The first time he told me he loved me. The days he spent at my side, when I was so sick I could hardly make a sound. Day after day, opening my eyes to see him sitting at my side. The day he asked me to marry him. Each moment was a tiny glimpse into the future, a tiny ball of light that made my heart jump. That is how I felt when I first saw this place. My future. The start of our future. Another step towards a future that just kept growing brighter.

To be honest, in the beginning, I couldn't believe it. Why would he even be interested in me? Next to the other girls in the theatre club, I was always the plain one. The other girls all had something going for them. Brains, energy, assertiveness, ambition. And they were all so beautiful, moving with grace while I was but a clutz. Just a sickly ditzy girl who couldn't even hold a proper conversation. My hair tends to stand on end no matter what I do with it. And even if I had dared I could never get anything to...jiggle...the way they always did. It wasn't easy growing up as a plain girl surrounded by beauty. Even at home, mom was a knockout. It was intimidating. So while they all dressed to accentuate their bodies, I dressed to hide mine, fearing the comparison.

Let's face it, he was surrounded by girls smarter, prettier and more interesting than me. That all seemed to like him. Why would I even hope?

He squeezes my hand and gently pulls me into the apartment as if sensing my dark mood. I can't help but smile when I see his face. It has always been that way, whatever insecurities I have just evaporated when he looks at me like that. Like he's doing now. Like there is no one else in the world. I have no doubts left now. Actually, thinking back it’s been a long time since I've had any doubts. Perhaps even back then, when my mind didn't even dare to hope, my heart already knew we would end up together.

We step into our new home. It doesn't feel different. Living here, being married. We chit-chat as usual as we go through our familiar routine. Once home, the day turns into a day much like any other. The big wedding with the dress and the flowers will have to wait. Today we simply dropped off our registration at the town hall, promising ourselves that we would do the real thing when we could afford it. I did my best to put up my hair and wore a casual dress I borrowed from mom. We bought two cheap silver bands to wear and that was it. I fiddle with the ring on my finger. It's plain, without any stone but still manages to itch quite a bit. Yet I can't take my eyes off it. We've both hung our diplomas up on the wall. Gazing at them I can't help but feel that despite all the effort we both put into finishing high school, the simple silver band on our hands feels the greatest victory in our lives.

I make our favourite dinner and we eat and talk, holding hands at the dinner table. We talk about the future with excited voices. I surprise him with new curtains for the main window that I have sewn using leftover cloth. He talks about a friend at work that has some extract furniture that we can have if we want. We discuss if we can grow any plants on our small balcony. Since today was a special day my husband didn't have to work so he is full of energy. I bask in the attention he gives me, nuzzling my hair as we do the dishes, listening with great attention to everything I say and vigorously laying out grand plans our future. A trip to the beach, foods we have to buy and people we have to invite over.

All and all, it was a simple day. But it was the best day of my life to date.

As dusk draws close, however, everything becomes new. The time when we usually head out to walk back to mom and dad's house comes and goes. Every minute is intoxicating. I find myself getting excited just by watching the seconds pass on the clock. Even though it's the same old apartment, I feel like an explorer in foreign lands. And yet I am still at home. My home. I am exploring my own home, where I now belong. It's a unique feeling.

We play cards, talk more and finally, the sun goes down. The nightly ritual starts. The cleaning up, the locking up and finally the baths. Only when I step into the bathroom does the fact that I was really going to spend the night start to settle in. In a room with no one but him.

I slip out of my dress, gently folding it up. The bathroom is as tiny as the apartment, separated from the main room only by a thin curtain. And while some of the tiles are chipped it’s really clean, he must have scrubbed his fingers bare making it this way. I smile warmly to myself. It’s not hard to imagine why. We continued to talk as I shower. The relief of being at home where I belong, of not having to be uprooted every night just as I am supposed to go to bed is wonderful. I feel safe here.

Finally, clean and fresh, I get out of the shower to dry myself off. I need to dress for bed. With slight trepidation, I look at my old pyjamas, folded up on the floor. Mom borrowed a wedding magazine for me when we decided to get married. I know she meant it well, knowing that our wedding would be a small event, wanting to get me excited. But reading the magazine had filled me with doubt. One whole section detailed sexy lingerie that the bride was to wear on her wedding night. While mom and dad have always put clothes on my back and food on the table we had never exactly been rich. All the clothes I owned were simple and functional. And perhaps even, when I think about it, a little childish. And now, as newlyweds, we had even less money. I don’t even have a job! There was absolutely no room for fancy new clothes. And even though the thought of wearing one of those risky black lacey things in front of him made me want to crawl out of my skin I couldn't help but think that my old worn pyjamas were not exactly what you would call exciting. Well, it was all I had. It's not like I could go to bed naked. I smile at the thought as I slip into my pyjama slacks. But I soon choke on my smile.

Oh god. Perhaps that is exactly what he expects. We are married now after all. I can hear him out in the room, fixing the beds. Since I have no fancy underwear, does he expect me to come out from the bath naked? Is that what brides are supposed to do? All the sudden it hits me. The whole wedding night thing had always seemed so far away. There had always been more pressing issues to think about. Well, now it's here, on the other side of the curtain separating the bathroom from the main room.

I gaze into the bathroom mirror, still topless. I have seen myself naked many times and other people have seen me naked. Mom, the girls at school. But never a man. And especially not him. My heart starts pounding as I anxiously study the mirror. I know I'm not exactly ugly, but sexy? Hair is still all over the place, even when washed and combed. My figure, while not bad have always been rather humble, not curvy like some of the other girls. But the face was worst, not seductive at all but terrified and flushed. Will he like me? What if when he sees me, it's not what he thought? I try to look like the girls I saw in the magazine. I end up looking like an idiot. My shoulders hunch up and I cover myself with my hands, trying to hide from the mirror. But it is ruthless.

The figure in mirror twists and distort, showing only the bad parts. A scared little girl, not a real woman. Full of flaws from head to toe. A mole in the wrong place, a zit on my cheek, eyes too big for my face, shoulders too small, breasts too flat, stomach not flat enough, armpit hair showing, nose slightly crooked, ears sticking out, hair's a mess-

"Are.. are you alright?"

I jerk back to reality at the sound of his voice outside the bathroom curtain. How long have I stood here? Embarrassed, I look away and quickly put on my pyjama shirt, buttoning it all the way up to my chin like armour.

"Ye...yes! I'm coming out now!" I manage in the most casual voice I can muster. But underneath my shirt my heart's pounding like jack hammer. I step out, almost afraid to meet his eyes, dreading the disappointment that I am sure to find there.

But there is no disappointment. He simply looks glad to see me again. The dark thoughts retreat as quickly as they came. Instead, all the things we have gone through together rush in, all the challenges we have conquered. It’s just him. My husband. Suddenly things don't seem so hard. Relieved, I smile and he smiles back.

When he has stepped into the bathroom I turn off the main lights and sit by the window in my pyjamas, listening to the noises from the street below. Dogs barking, the odd car passing by, street lights humming. Familiar smells drift in through the window. The night air smells the same as it did at my parent's house. I look up. The stars are the same.

But no matter how I try my thoughts can’t seem to calm themselves. Unwittingly I crumple up the corners of my pyjamas with my nervous fingers. I try to remember all the things I know about...about....it.

All the gossip from the other girls in high school. The awkward talk with mom when me and my husband first started to date. The biology lessons. The magazine articles. I catch myself biting my fingernails and grunt in disgust. That’s a habit I’m supposed to be done with. I throw my arms around my legs and hug my knees, burrowing my face in the soft pyjama cloth. The tears are pushing to come out but I bite down hard and push them back, quickly wiping away the few escapees with the sleeve of my shirt. No more of that. I’m such a child! I can’t be like this anymore.

My thoughts are disturbed by a stream of swear words coming from beyond the curtain to the bath. The light comes on in the bathroom and his silhouette is backlit against the curtain. I can see his figure darting around in there.

"Is everything alright?" I ask carefully.

"Ah. Eh...we seem to be missing a soap" I can see his figure on the curtain scratching his head in embarrassment.

"I’ll get you a new one! Hang on!"

I pick up the soap and start to walk towards the bath. The flimsy plastic curtain is waving slightly. As I stop in front of it a thought comes to me. This thin veil was all that separates us now. I find myself standing there, studying the shadow. That's my husband's body. I know that behind the curtain he must be stark naked. It's not an unpleasant thought at all, just a new one. Mom and dad's house was much bigger, allowing for far more privacy. Here we would live really close to each other. Another realization dawns on me. I also had the bathroom light on. Did he see me like that? Was it dark out here then as well? My eyes fixate on the shadow on the curtain. It doesn't leave much to the imagination. I could feel my breath quickening.

All the sudden the curtain pulls aside a bit and a hand and head pop out from beyond. Like a schoolboy caught peeping, I instinctively avert my head in shame.

"He...here is the soap!" Without looking I thrust my hand forward. His hand brush briefly against mine as he grip the soap. I turn around, blushing.

"Thank you," he cheers and goes back to bathing, whistling merrily.

I spend the rest of his bath time making myself busy. Making sure the bed is neat, putting the dishes back in the kitchen cabinets, putting out clothes for tomorrow. Yet no matter what I do my eyes keep wandering back towards the bathroom. Finally, I have to sit myself down and focus on intently studying the opposite wall.

Finally, he gets out of the bath.

“Eh, would you mind not turning around for a while?”

Oh, god. He must have noticed me peeking. I made him uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in his own home.

“Of course” I respond, pinching my eyes shut, cursing under my breath. I can hear him opening and closing one of the drawers in the cabinets. What is he doing?

“You can turn around now”

I straighten my clothes and rise. When I turn around he is right behind me, smiling. Yet again the demons of my mind shrivel up and flee as soon as I meet his eyes. Shuffling his feet, he hands over a package I haven't seen before.

"I have a gift for you"

I take the package from his arms, feeling the wrapping paper rustle under my fingers. It yields to my touch. Underneath lies something soft and round.

"What is it?" I ask curiously. The package is too big to contain clothes. Yet soft.

"Open it," he smiles.

Carefully I unwrap the package, making sure not to destroy the fine wrapping paper. Two friendly eyes peek out at me from under the paper, in the centre of a round soft pillow of fluffy cloth. I gasp in delight, squeezing the stuffed animal tight.

"It's not much," he mumbles, embarrassed. "But I wanted you to have something.“ I see him studying me, worried. I can see the thoughts in his head. Is it enough? Will she like it?

”You know, to celebrate the wedding. To...to make you feel at home-"

I don't let him finish. Instead, I kiss him, flinging my arms around his neck. He so tall I have to stand on my toes.

Contrary to what our friends liked to tease, we have kissed before, many times. We like kissing. Both of us. We kiss goodnight, we kiss when we are happy, we kiss to make up. We must have kissed hundreds of times.

Yet something is different about this kiss. It is unlike any kiss we ever had before. There is a hunger in it that hasn't been there before. No, it has always been there, suppressed, locked away in a cage of tradition and social rules. Well, tonight all of a sudden that cage comes undone and the beast within allowed to roam free. My breathing hastens even further. I feel free, unbound. Around me the world fades away, leaving only him and me.

But as we kiss there is constantly something in the way, something poking me in my stomach. Our clothes must have been rumbled up. Or did some wrapping paper get caught in my clothes? Not wanting to withdraw from the kiss I try to shift but it just won't go away. Finally, annoyed I reach down to get the thing out of the way. My hand closes around the piece of bulging cloth. What could it be? At that very moment, my husband winces and draws a sharp breath.  
Only then do I realize that my worries about him not finding me attractive enough were probably somewhat exaggerated. I promptly turn scarlet and before I can think turn away from our embrace.

"I'm sorry" he mumbles, turning away from me. For a second I catch his face. He looks embarrassed and ashamed. Disgusted with himself. Like I had just rejected his confession.

"I'm sorry!" I start, clasping my hands over my mouth. I see the twin pains on his face, not knowing what to say. "I, I didn't know..."

"It's ok, I understand," he nods, face still turned away from me. He adjusts his pyjamas before turning back to me.

"Shall we go to bed?" he asks awkwardly.

"Y...yes. Ok." I smile, trying to think how I can make it alright again. How can I go back to that moment when we kissed. Instead, we climb into our separate mattresses on the floor. We say our goodnights and turn off the light.

I lie there in the dark, trying to steady my breath, to collect my thoughts. But find I just can't. He is right next to me, in the bedroll next to mine. I can almost feel the heat coming from his body. My heart is racing. Oh god, I don't know what to do. Like the dolt I am, I keep staring at the ceiling. We are married now. This is our wedding night. I...I'm supposed to be his wife tonight. I want to be his wife. I want it so bad it is burning a hole in my chest. But I don't know how. Everything I do just turns out wrong. The dark thoughts come sneaking back. Does he regret marrying me? Will this be the thing that drives us apart? The thing where he finally realizes I'm not good enough.

Time stretches out and nothing happens. We just lie there, next to each other, in silence. Every second that goes by is torture. I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth in the dark. Get it together girl! I need to do something, can't just lie here like a sack of grain. I steel myself, taking a deep breath, pinching my eyes shut.

"Pork cutlet!"

That wasn't in my mind. I can actually feel the heat rising in my face. The words just jumped out of me. I do that sometimes when I'm nervous, I try to motivate myself with dishes I love. Pork cutlet is one of my favourites. I must have done it without thinking. My husband stirs next to me. He turns to me, looking confused.

"Are...are you hungry?"

"No, no!" I wave my hand apologetically, trying to smile. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"I'm just....kind of..." An idiot. I look back towards the ceiling, fighting to keep back the tears. I cry at everything. I can't cry now. I just can't. My husband also looks up again. Another moment of silence passes.

"Nervous?"

"Yes," I breathe.

"Me too"

I never struck me that he would be nervous as well. Suddenly I don't feel so alone. Neither one of us is very good with physical intimacy. We both crave it, we both long for it but we both have such a hard time initiating. Our first kiss took forever to happen. The only thing we can bring ourselves to do in public is to hold hands. It's such a painful balance, being a private person with a strong need to touch and be touched.

That look he had on his face before haunts me. Rejected. Ashamed. Here I am thinking about myself. As usual. Always thinking about myself. What does he feel? His new wife, pulling away from him on their wedding night. I can't leave it at that. It’s up to me now. I have to do something. Say something. Anything!

"Do you want to hold my hand?" I mumble, pulling the covers over my mouth. I reach out into the darkness, still looking up at the ceiling. It’s not what I really want but it’s all I can bring myself to say. Pathetic. On your wedding night! Holding hands? Is that the best-

He takes my hand and it is like a dam bursts open within me. That feeling I had back when we shared our kiss earlier comes flooding back with a vengeance. It feels like all this time, stealing glances, holding hands overcoming adversity together it has all led to this. It is as if every single moment of love and trust and hope has built inside me like a pressure cooker. The beast inside me, having tasted freedom, screams and rages in my heart, demanding release. I can't hold it back anymore. I just can't. And it scares me.

At first, our hands just touch but ever so slowly our fingers start to entwine. I can hear his breathing growing faster. We are both still looking out into the gloom, towards the ceiling. My fingers break free of my will and move on their own, exploring and caressing in ways I never thought I would have dared. Beneath me, my legs start to squirm, not allowing me to lie still.

A bolt of lightning shoots through my body as his fingertips reach the palm of my hand. My body shivers and I gasp, the tiny touch knocking the breath out of me. Just in time my other hand shoot up to cover my mouth before I moan out loud in the dark. My whole body freezes as I try to suck air through my nose. I try to move but I can't. Tears are running down my cheeks. I don't know why I am crying. I don't even know what I am feeling. The lack of control, the expectations, the embarrassment over my own pleasure. It’s too much. It’s just too much of everything.

He senses my tension and stops caressing my hand. “Are...are you ok?” His voice is filled with worry.

I know this is the breaking point. I need to reassure him. If I reject his touch again, how will he ever find the courage again? But as always, when it really matters, I am too weak.

“Y...yes” A tiny squeak is all I manage. I remain frozen, torn between the emotions welling up inside me and my own fears. Scared what will happen if touches me, and even more scared what will happen if he stops. Then my worst fear comes to pass. Ever so slowly, he gently pulls away from me again. A little light within me dies when our hands finally glide apart. He settles down to sleep next to me. The small sounds of his body shifting in the bed feel like knives cutting into me.

I listen to him fall asleep. When I think he’s finally sleeping I allow myself to sob into the darkness, trying my best to keep quiet. I’ve ruined everything. I haven't been his wife even a day and I have already failed. I don't deserve him. He deserves better. A real wife. Not an infirm crybaby who's so afraid of everything that she can't even touch her own husband. That the same weakness that has haunted me all my life, body and soul. I hate it. Every time I think I have it beaten it comes right back. Now it will steal my husband away from me.

No.

I kick off the covers in frustration and sit straight up, shaking my head vigorously.

"Sweet bean bun!" I whisper savagely to myself.

No, not him. I won't let it. It can take my friends, take my aspirations, take my health, it can damn well even have my life. But it will not have him. That's where I draw the line. This night will not end like this. He will not go to work tomorrow thinking I don't want him. I don't care how embarrassing it is. I don't care if I look like a fool. I only care for him. For us.

As I turn to wake him up I find that he is already looking straight at me. Our eyes meet and his voice reaches out to me through the darkness. The little light inside me crackles to life once again as he speaks.

"I love you"

Through the light streaming in from the window, I can see his face. He is looking at me like that again. Worried, almost ashamed, like he has hurt me. Yet underneath it all, I see the old look. Like he can't believe he is here with me. Like there is no one like me anywhere else. Tentatively he reaches up and wipes the tears from my eyes. Once they are dry I lunge for his hand, grasping it and holding it tight to my chest. We look at each other and it is as if the situation is finally sinking in. This is the person I have chosen, this is the person that has chosen me. What exactly am I afraid of?

"I love you too"

As soon as our skins meet again that primal fire is back, rising within me. But it no longer scares me, it now envelopes me like a warm blanket. As I look at the man I love my own desires call out to me, telling me tonight is not about duty, not about what is required of me. We didn't get to this place through duty, nor by doing what was expected of us. Noone expected us to date, or to marry. We chose it, we fought for it, tooth and nail. There were so many chances for either of us to back out, to choose something different. God knows it hasn't been easy. Yet here we are, next to each other.

This was all our choice, this is what we wanted. Why should tonight be any different? It's about what we want to do. To my own great surprise, I find that I know exactly what I want.

I pull myself closer to my husband, seeing his eyes widen. I slide under his covers, not letting go of his gaze. He tries to pull away, angling his body aside, embarrassed by his reaction as I press my body close to his. However this time I don't let him get away, instead pinning him down, climbing on top of him. My hands move on their own again and I let them. My lips find his and the pressure that has built up within me starts to flow out. He touches me and I embrace the lightning, letting it run wild through me. Past the point where I know I can no longer hold back, I finally let go.

 

* * *

 

As I lie in his arms, watching him sleep, I feel...different. More grown up, like a real adult. I wouldn’t say I ‘became a woman’ tonight, certainly not because of what we did. But I can’t deny that graduating, getting married, moving away from home, that these things have not changed me. I have finally decided that I can not, I will not, let my weakness rule my life.

I will of course continue to stumble and fall, like I always have. Continue to get flustered, continue to get sick. I am who I am, I can’t change that. But I will never give up, never stop fighting. For I have truly learned, that for the rest of my life, no matter how far I fall, he will always be there to catch me.

It’s funny, I had always considered my wedding night to be something scary. Something I could fail at. Something I must overcome. Yet another in a long line of obstacles to surmount.

Turns out it wasn't. Instead, it was a reward for all the things we had already weathered through.

Together.


End file.
